The first 24 hours
by myrti
Summary: The aftereffects of Lord Voldemort's defeat. HarryGinny. Rated PG13.


Disclaimer: Hogwarts and the characters (including Lord Thingy, who she's welcome to) belong to JK Rowling and those who make money from her talent (which doesn't include me).

Summary: The after-effects of Lord Voldemort's defeat. Harry/Ginny. Rated PG-13. 

A/N: This one starts off a tad angsty but stick with it...

**The first 24 hours.**

The wind made Ginny's eyes sting and whipped her hair across her face. It didn't make much difference though; it was now too dark to see anyway. It was also far too late to be flying. Ginny didn't have a watch with her but she was fairly sure that it was past curfew. Not that she cared. The only reason Ginny finally decided to head towards the ground was sheer exhaustion; she still cared enough to not want to fall out of the sky... just. 

Today was the end of day 4. Four days ago Harry had left to fulfill the prophecy that had been hanging over him like a rain cloud all his life. Ginny had wished him luck and watched him leave. Then she had started flying. 

At first it was to avoid the fake smiles, the encouraging words and the anxious looks. When Monday came it was to avoid her lessons; how could she be expected to concentrate on the mundane when her life hung in the balance? On the third day it was almost habit. She found the numbness comforting, the solitude reassuring. Besides, she may as well get used to it. 

Now she flew for another reason. Today was day 4, but today was different. He was no longer out in the world somewhere trying to save mankind from an evil wizard; he was here. This morning McGonagall had sent someone with a message: 'Go to the hospital wing. Harry Potter's defeated You-Know-Who.' 

Ginny didn't ask how. She didn't even scold the third year girl for not using the name Voldemort. She didn't celebrate either. She just picked up her broom as usual and took to the skies. 

She loved him. 

If you asked someone who knew her when it had all begun they would undoubtedly cite the first time she'd seen him at King's Cross, but that wasn't when it had started. Ginny would readily admit that she'd been interested in Harry Potter ever since she'd heard the story as a little girl. Who wouldn't be? He was a hero. And on the day when Ginny, no more than ten years old, had seen this hero in the flesh, yes, she'd developped a crush. Who wouldn't? 

The years passed. Ginny embarrassed herself and the crush, as is the norm, faded. At the same time though, Ginny got to know someone else; a boy who was polite but passionate, a boy who had every opportunity to take advantage of the fame that life had given him but chose not to, a boy who not only _would_ but _did_ put his life on the line for his friends, a boy with unconventionally good looks and mesmerising eyes. _Then_ she fell in love. How could she not? 

And now she was flying to avoid going to the hospital wing. Ginny was strong; she'd endured a lot - the embarrassment, the envy, the heartache - but she refused to endure this. She refused to watch Harry dying... And so she flew. 

Ginny stumbled as she landed. She hadn't slept more than a few hours in the last four days and her body was on auto-pilot. Putting her broom away, she entered the castle and watched, almost detached, as her feet travelled towards Gryffindor Tower. She vaguely registered that there was a lot of noise coming from The Great Hall but ignored it and was soon stepping through the portrait hole to the common room. 

Hermione was there. 

In the days, months and years that had comprised Ginny's normal life this wouldn't mean much. Today though, it was everything. It meant the moment had come; it was over; he was dead. 

"Ginny? ... Ginny, what is it?"   
Ginny realised her legs must have given way leaving her to crumple to the floor. Hermione was crouched beside her saying something but her ears were ringing and she was fighting to breathe, the air refusing to enter her lungs as if they no longer saw the purpose of taking on this life support. 

Hermione was shaking her now. When she still failed to respond Hermione dragged her to her feet and put an arm around her waist.   
"Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital wing."   
_Hospital wing_. These two words entered Ginny's brain and made a connection.   
"He's dead," Ginny said, moving out of Hermione's arms. 

"What?" Hermione said. "No. No, Ginny he's fine. Harry's fine."   
Ginny wanted to believe this more than life itself but she couldn't. She shook her head and backed away from the person telling her these lies.   
"You're just saying that."   
"No, I promise. Madam Pomfrey just let him out of the hospital wing. He's upstairs." 

Ginny stood looking at Hermione, her breath ragged.   
"I promise, Ginny. Go and see for yourself. He's in the boys' dorm. He's fine."   
Ginny swallowed. Surely it couldn't be true? She slowly turned and started up the stairs, refusing to believe until she had seen with her own two eyes. 

In front of the door she hesitated, not wanting to shatter this illusion of hope just yet. Inside, she could hear Ron's snores but nothing else. Her hand shook as she turned the handle. 

She hadn't knocked and Harry seemed surprised to see her.   
"You're not dead," Ginny said, relief registering somewhere in her mind.   
"What?" Harry asked, his eyes full of concern.   
"I thought you were dead," she told him coming into the room, her brain in a daze.   
Harry shook his head. "I was just taking a bit of a nap. I'm fine now."   
Ginny felt dizzy and reached out to hold onto one of the posts of Harry's bed to steady herself. Harry frowned.   
"Are you okay? Why don't you sit down," he suggested. "You look like you're about to faint."   
She sat. At any other time she probably would have relished the fact that she was sitting on Harry's bed but her head felt heavy and was starting to ache. She suddenly found that it was extremely difficult to keep her eyes open. She yawned. 

"Ginny, why don't you go and get some sleep? I'm fine, really."   
"Sorry, I should... I'm keeping you from... it's you that should be... you've just," Ginny slurred, unable to construct a full sentence.   
"I've been asleep for the last twelve hours, Gin. The last thing I need is _more_ sleep."   
Ginny nodded, not entirely sure what it was she was agreeing with. 

"Come on," Harry said softly, pulling back his duvet. "Why don't you lie down for a bit? I won't be needing my bed for a while."   
Ginny felt herself being encouraged to lie back and Harry taking off her shoes before he pulled the duvet over her. His bed was unfeasibly comfortable and Ginny felt every muscle in her body sigh with relief.   
"Don't leave again," Ginny said as she saw Harry head towards the door.   
"You want me to stay?" he asked.   
She managed a weak smile before sleep finally overcame her. 

* * * 

Ginny woke and stretched luxuriously. She felt like she'd just had the most restful night's sleep ever or the most perfect dream.   
"Sleep well?" asked a voice from next to her.   
She turned over and smiled at Harry who was lying on top of the covers on the other half of the bed.   
"Very well. How did I end up here though?"   
"You must have been exhausted; you were a bit delirious. I thought you were going to collapse so I suggested you sleep here." 

Ginny nodded. She was momentarily lost in the depth of his eyes, slowly coming to the realisation that she was lying in Harry's bed, next to Harry, and that neither of them were making any attempt to get up.   
"What have you been doing anyway?" he asked curiously. "You look awful." 

Ginny's daydream ended.   
"Charming."   
She hastily pulled back the duvet and swung her legs out of bed, straightening her robes, which were twisted around her, and looking for her shoes. 

Harry was suddenly at her side.   
"Sorry, I didn't mean... I just meant... because..."   
"Because what?" Ginny snapped.   
Harry looked apprehensively at her for a moment then indicated the mirror with his eyes. Ginny turned to see what on Earth he was talking about. Her mouth hung open. She hadn't slept during the last four days and it was true that there were slight shadows under her eyes, but that was nothing compared to her hair. She'd been flying every day and hadn't bothered to brush it so it resembled nothing more than one big knotted mass. 

"What have you been doing?" Harry asked again.   
"Flying."   
"Flying?"   
Ginny turned away from the mirror to look at Harry.   
"What did you think, that you'd go off to fight the bad guys and the rest of us would carry on as normal?"   
"I'm sorry."   
"What for?"   
Harry just stood there watching her.   
"Never mind, it doesn't matter. You're back now." 

Ginny turned back around to examine her hair, trying to decide if it might just be easier to cut it all off than try to untangle it. She spotted a hairbrush and sat down in front of the mirror, starting to pull sharply at the knots. 

Harry winced and sat down behind her.   
"Here, let me do that."   
"Huh?"   
"You'll be bald if you carry on like that; I could never live with myself, come on."   
Ginny let him prise the brush out of her hand and marvelled as he set to work gently encouraging her hair back to normal. Actually, Ginny was quite proud of her hair; admittedly it was bright red but that couldn't be helped. At least it was well behaved... usually. 

Harry didn't seem to be in any rush and Ginny wondered where he had learnt to be so patient. Finally he laid down the brush.   
"See?" he said, running his fingers through her hair.   
She looked in the mirror in front of her but ignored her own reflection, focussing instead on Harry who was still examining his handiwork. 

Suddenly, she turned round to face him.   
"It's gone."   
She lifted the hair that had flopped onto Harry's forehead and he grinned.   
"It's gone," Ginny repeated.   
"I know," Harry whispered.   
Ginny wondered why he'd whispered then realised that their faces were only inches apart and her hand was still in his hair. Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't moving. Why wasn't he backing away? And why was he staring into her eyes like that; the way she was staring into his? 

Ginny could have sworn that for a few seconds the world itself stopped turning. She longed, far more fiercely than she ever had done before, to kiss him. Just once. Just to see if it was how she imagined. But she knew she wouldn't. You didn't survive unrequited love for three and a half years by leaping on the object of your desire. 

Then, so slowly that Ginny wasn't sure that she wasn't imagining it, he began to lean towards her. And then it happened; an excrutiatingly soft kiss. It must have lasted a full two or three seconds but it was so gentle that Ginny could barely feel the pressure of his lips on hers. Then it was over. 

He moved back, but not so far back that she couldn't feel his breath on her cheek. Ginny's eyes, which had closed, fluttered open and they looked at each other. Then it was Ginny's turn. Her lips met Harry's just as gently but with a little more insistance, her heart beating rapidly in her ears. This time their lips had only just parted when Harry was bringing them to touch again and his arms reached around her waist. She delved deeper into the kiss, putting the hand that wasn't in his hair behind his neck and pulling him closer. Her head was spinning and her skin tingled. 

When they broke apart she found Harry smiling.   
"I've wanted to do that for so long," Ginny confessed before she could stop herself.   
"Me too," Harry said. "Well, about eight months."   
"Really?" Ginny breathed.   
Harry nodded.   
Feeling more elated than she could ever remember, Ginny settled back into his arms, turning to look at their reflection in the mirror, at the beautiful green eyes staring back at her. 

"The Mirror of Erised," he murmured, more to himself than her.   
"Mirror of what?"   
Harry shook his head.   
"Nothing. It doesn't matter," he said smiling and tightening his arms around her.   
Ginny lay her head back on his chest, taking in his scent and consuming herself in the contentment that the feel of his arms encircling her brought. 

In the distance Ginny heard Ron's footsteps clomping up the stairs then saw his reflection enter the room. He looked surprised for a second but then, to his credit, ignored the fact that his best friend and little sister were sat in each other's arms on the floor.   
"Are you coming down to breakfast?" he asked. 

Harry extracated himself from around Ginny then held out a hand to help her up. To her joy he didn't let it go and together they walked through the corridors of the castle. As they entered The Great Hall a cheer went up but Harry, blushing, just made his way to his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. 

The cheering died down and Ginny watched as this boy, this scar-free, care-free, prophecy-free, normal boy - her boyfriend - reached for a knife and started buttering his toast. Some would say it was the end of an era. Ginny would say it was just the beginning. 

The End.

A/N: Wow, I hope you're not suffocating under all that fluff... I admit the whole Mirror of Erised thing was a little cheesy but you can't have a fluffy romance in which a mirror features so heavily without mentioning it. It's rule 41 of fanfic-dom. Promise. Anyhow, comments, compliments and (constructive) criticism are, as always, most welcome.   
Until next time,   
myrtilleEtMure   
xxx 


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